


Be With Me

by dimerization



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: (singular because Trevor is the only idiot in this scenario), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 02, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, canon-typical bickering, idiot to lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24106252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimerization/pseuds/dimerization
Summary: Sypha asks Trevor to go steady.  *That* goes flying over Trevor's head like a Boeing-747.Immediately post-S2, pre-S3.  Canon compliant.  Trevor is a sad moron.This is arguably not a fluffy fic, but if you dig Trevor and Sypha having very low-stakes arguments in wagons, well, enjoy.
Relationships: Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	Be With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd yet. That may change. Concrit absolutely appreciated.

**Trevor**

_I want you_ _to be_ _with me._

Trevor turned the words over in his mind. He sat comfortably against a tree, and Sypha was cuddled up beside him, her arm looped through his, her head resting on his shoulder. _I want you to be with me._ He looked down at her affectionately, seeing only red curls and the blue of her robes, and one foot peeking out, bare in the grass beside her discarded shoes. Sypha sighed happily and snuggled a little closer. Trevor couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. _I want you to_ _be with me._

 _A man could get used to this,_ he thought. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm to just pretend, for a moment, that he and Sypha were, well… Trevor dropped his head back against the tree trunk with a bit of a thud. It wasn’t as if they’d ever be anything, not really. He certainly hoped not, for Sypha’s sake. _But still, this is nice._

He resisted the urge to press his lips into her hair. Squelching those thoughts was easy by now; he had plenty of practice. Trevor refused to let a little crush ruin his friendship with Sypha. He’d ruined enough things in his life – no need to throw _her_ on the pyre of his self-destructive tendencies, too. Honestly, he was shocked she was sticking around. Trevor was a drunk and a lout and he knew it. He’d known it for years. Everyone he’d ever fucked, or had paid to fuck him, (mostly the latter, really,) had known it, too.

But Sypha… She was smarter than him, braver, and prettier too. (That last one was a low bar, to be completely fair. Still, though.) She fought like it was a dance, moved like the fire and water that leapt from her fingertips, fast and graceful and deadly and perfect. Her eyes, her laugh, the way she smiled at him while she called him names… _God._ He probably ought to mind being called a rude idiot and a filthy vagabond, but there was no sting to the words in her mouth. She looked at him with so much affection that it made him nervous sometimes. He had to wonder if she was missing something about him, had somehow failed to notice his every failing. _On the other hand, she lists them out_ _for me every time I piss her off, loudly and in great detail. Besides, it’s not like she’s unobservant, for God’s sake._

Over the last couple of months, Sypha had seen him drunk, hungover, sick, injured, furious, exhausted, heartsick, miserable, terrified, petulant, wet, cold, and, probably worst of all, bored _._ (Trevor was unbearable when he was bored, and he knew it.) And she was still here! Leaning her head on his shoulder, watching the sunset with him, with both her hands curled over one of his.

 _She wants me to be with her, for now,_ he thought. _That’s good enough for me._

* * *

**Sypha**

They’d been on the road less than two days and Sypha was already planning to strangle him. _First_ there was their last night at the castle. It had gone so well earlier that evening that Sypha had been sure she was _finally_ going to get some, and then not only had Trevor gotten drunk, but he’d passed out snoring on the sofa instead of coming back to her room and fucking her senseless. So that was infuriating _._ And then _last_ night she’d held his hand and she kept catching him looking at her with those _stupid_ eyes and what did he do?! He said they should get an early start! Sypha couldn’t believe it. Trevor Belmont had never gotten an early start in his life! But he’d offered to take first watch and then he hadn’t woken her until early morning and they really _had_ gotten an early start, and now he was asleep in the back of the wagon like some kind of dog while she drove and she hadn’t gotten laid in months and she was _going_ to kill him.

 _At least a deformed pet bear would do what he was told,_ she thought furiously, sucking on her teeth. _Trevor is just … ugh!_ She eyed the road ahead of the horses speculatively. _Let’s see … aha!_ The pothole ahead was ideal. Not deep enough to catch the wheel entirely and halt the wagon, but it had tremendous jolting potential. Sypha tugged on the reins. _Just a little to the_ _r_ _ight_ _…_

The _thunk-THUD_ she got as she drove over the pothole was immensely satisfying. So was Trevor’s strangled “Fnnfkf!” from behind her as something fell on him. She hoped it was the little keg of salt pork. He deserved it. _It’s rude to keep a lady waiting!_

 _“Aungh_ ,” Trevor said articulately.

“Sleep well?” Sypha asked, shooting a smile over her shoulder at him. She got a confused impression of a blanket, some legs, and – _yes! The keg!_ Internally, she did a little dance. _Ha!_

“Whuh…? Did something happen?” Trevor mumbled.

“Oh, I think we went over a bump! Oh _dear_ , are you alright?” Sypha said.

“Hrrmm.” Trevor sounded suspicious. _Good,_ Sypha thought. She could hear him moving around behind her. A hand bumped her elbow as Trevor sat up, then clambered up from the wagon bed onto the driver’s seat beside her. His hair was sticking straight up on one side from sleeping on it. She burst out laughing. Trevor glowered at her, blinking in the afternoon sunshine.

“What?” he said. Sypha just giggled.

“You’re picking on me,” Trevor said.

“Me? I would never!”

“Hmph.”

Sypha gave him her most angelic smile. Trevor’s mouth quirked a little at one corner, and he pawed at his hair.

“How long was I asleep?” he asked.

“Most of the day. We’ve got a few hours of light left, though.”

“Did we pass the village?”

“Yes. You said you didn’t want to stop there,” Sypha said, half-worried she might have misremembered, half not caring. _Serves him right if we did,_ she thought.

“No, yeah, I didn’t.” Trevor grimaced a little, presumably at the prospect of walking among the people who'd burned the Belmont Estate to the ground all those years ago. Sypha pretended not to notice. “I was just wondering where we were.”

“Well. We’ve got a few more hours before we need to make camp.”

“Great! Let’s press on.”

“What _ever_ would I do without your _skilled_ direction, _Master_ Belmont,” Sypha said, twitching the reins of the horses, who were very much still walking forward down the road, drawing the wagon behind them. Trevor colored a little, looking away.

“No – I just meant – damn it, Sypha. Uh. D’you want anything to eat? I’m starved.”

“Sure!” she said breezily. Trevor waited for her to elaborate. She did not.

“Anything in particular?” he said after a moment.

“I trust you!” Sypha gave him a little smile, tightening the corners of her mouth to bring up her dimples. Trevor blinked.

“Right…” And he climbed back down onto the wagon bed in search of lunch.

* * *

**Trevor**

Sypha had to be pissed at him. She just _had_ to. But Trevor was damned if he could figure out why. He snuck glances at her as he groomed the horses. She seemed calm, intent on building a fire and fixing dinner, not even looking up at him as she worked. She’d taken off her outer robe to avoid catching her sleeves in the flames, and her bare shoulders shone in the firelight. Her scars caught his eye, the shiny, new skin glistening.

Trevor fought down a pang of guilt. Sypha was a grown woman, and a fighter just like him. They’d walked into the fight with Dracula clear-eyed and ready for death, if it came to that. He fucking _hated_ that she’d been hurt, hated that he couldn’t protect her, but what the fuck was he going to do? Wrap her in cotton batting every time they saw a night creature? She’d saved his life half a dozen times during that battle. It was hardly his job to keep her safe from every little thing that came their way, and certainly not Dracula, for God’s sake. _If I ever try to apologize for it – God forbid – she’ll tear me a new asshole! And she’ll probably be justified._ But she wasn’t pissed about his misplaced overprotectiveness … probably. He hadn’t said anything to her while he was drunk the other night, had he…? God, he hoped not. He’d never get out of _that_ doghouse.

Horses seen to, Trevor abandoned his musings.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, as though he hadn’t been watching Sypha prepare the entire meal.

“Just a quick soup. We’ve got to eat the roast boar before it goes bad,” she said, not calling him on it.

“Right.” Trevor settled across the fire from her, cross-legged on the ground with his back against a boulder. “How long now?” He _was_ hungry.

“It’s ready. I just need to get the flatbread from the wagon… ”

“I’ll do it!” Trevor rose as Sypha did. She smiled at him, eyes rather heavy-lidded.

“I’m closer,” she said. Trevor started to open his mouth to argue, then thought better of it, and sat down again instead. Sypha smirked.

“It’s good exercise,” he mumbled. She just laughed at him as she dug through the back of the wagon, and came up with a packet wrapped in cloth.

“The bread’s a little stale, but we’ll put it in the soup.”

“It’ll be perfect,” Trevor said.

They settled down to eat quietly, the pot set on the ground between them. Sypha hadn’t been much of a cook when they’d met. Living with the Speakers, she hadn’t been called upon much to prepare her own food, as the caravan ate meals all together. She’d studied magic more than anything else. But she’d picked up tricks from Trevor, (a mediocre cook, capable of fixing up a tolerably-seasoned dinner over a campfire and not much else,) and Alucard, whose food was the best Trevor had ever tasted. Admittedly, Trevor’s palate wasn’t particularly broad, but still. It seemed odd that the son of a vampire would be such an accomplished chef, but Trevor supposed his mother had been human. That was neither here nor there, though. Sypha’s soup was quite tasty. He savored a last mouthful of meat and carrots.

“Good?” Sypha asked.

“Excellent,” Trevor said, with a little smile. Sypha leaned over conspiratorially, as though they were not alone at a campfire in the middle of the woods, miles from the nearest hint of civilization.

“Alucard gave me a little satchel of mixed herbs. It’ll be back to hardtack for you once I run out!” she whispered, grinning and winking.

“Oh, fuck _me!”_ Trevor clapped a hand over his heart, pantomiming misery.

“That’s an option,” Sypha said. Trevor froze mid-slump, staring at her. _Did she_ _mean_ _…? No, not possible._

Sypha drank the last of her broth and set her bowl aside, then reached out with one little hand and took hold of Trevor’s bowl.

“Are you going to finish this, _Master_ Belmont?” she said archly. Trevor blinked at her.

“Uhh – yes. Uhh – ” Hastily, he slugged down the last of his soup. Sypha was still waiting with her hands out. He handed his bowl and spoon over, somewhat perplexed.

Sypha set them aside, then crawled forward an arm’s length and up into his lap.

* * *

**Sypha**

Trevor was staring up at her with something rapidly approaching panic. _No,_ Sypha thought. She wasn’t going to worry about that now. She _had_ him, right here, pinned between her and the rock at his back, warm and solid in her arms. She settled herself comfortably on his thighs, looking down at him under lowered lashes.

Trevor’s eyes were vividly blue. His thick brown-black hair fell down over his forehead, and Sypha reached up to gently brush it away. She could see him swallow as her fingertips touched the skin of his face, and she let her hand trace down to cup his jaw, his dense stubble rough against her palm. He looked up at her under heavy, knotted brows, mouth and jaw tight under her searching fingers.

“Sypha?” he said, nearly whispering. “What are you doing?”

Sypha blinked.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“I – well – ” Trevor’s eyes skated away, desperate, looking anywhere but her face. “You’re, um, it seems like, I mean – ” His hands were on the ground by her shins, not on her body. She _hated_ that. She felt him clench his fists. His pulse hammered under her hand. Trevor took a deep breath, then met her eyes again.

“I thought we were friends?” he said softly.

The pit dropped out of Sypha’s stomach. She yanked her hands away from his face, shocked and horrified.

“What?” she whispered. _But I was so sure! His_ eyes – _how could I have been so_ wrong _? What happened?!_ Sypha rested her fists on her thighs, shaken, afraid to touch him.

“I thought you didn’t – I mean – ” he stammered.

“You’re not … interested in me…?”

“Wh – you’re _interested_ in me?!” Trevor goggled at her. There was no other word for it. He looked … flabbergasted.

“You didn’t think I was?” Sypha said.

“Why the fuck would you be?”

“What the hell kind of a question is that?”

“You’re too good for me!” Trevor cried, shutting his eyes hard. Sypha stared at him, something knotting up in her chest.

“Trevor…”

He reached up gentle hands to grasp her forearms, still covered by her long gloves. She felt his thumbs rub lightly against the cloth.

“You’re too good for me,” he said again, softly this time. He looked up at her, blue eyes wide and earnest. “Fuck, I don’t do this – _feelings_ shit. I … Sypha,” and he took a long breath.

“Just say it,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. Trevor looked away again. His hands tightened on her arms.

“I never thought you could, you know – ah, hell. I never thought you could _want_ me.”

Sypha was at a loss. Not want him? Not want his big hands, his strong back, the kindness in him, the empathy? _What’s not to want? s_ he thought.

“Why?”

Trevor let out a bitter little breath of a laugh. “I’m a drunk! I’m a boor. I’m a _failure!_ What good am I to you? What good am I to anyone? Even after everything we’ve been through – ”

“We defeated Dracula together!”

“You and Alucard – ”

Sypha grabbed Trevor’s face between her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“We defeated Dracula _together_ , Trevor Belmont,” she said fiercely. “I couldn’t have done it without you, damn it! Neither could Alucard! You saved us. You saved us both.” Trevor opened his mouth, taking a breath.

“Shut up!” Sypha said. “You couldn’t have done it without me or Alucard either, right? I know. We _all_ needed each other. We’d _all_ be dead otherwise. Trevor Belmont,” she turned her head a little to one side, looking deeply into his big, scared eyes, “you saved the world.” And Sypha bent her head, and kissed him.

* * *

**Trevor**

It was like flying. Leaving the earth behind, spinning up, up, up to where there was nothing but Sypha’s lips, Sypha’s tongue, the taste of her mouth, her skin smooth beneath his hand, her hair fine between his fingers. Trevor couldn’t help but moan a little as she worked herself closer to him, pressed her chest against his, opened her mouth as she kissed him, delicate and desperate and urgent. She felt so soft in his arms despite her muscle, (Trevor knew the strength of her, knew how fast she could run, how hard she could hit, but Sypha seemed to melt against him like butter folding into dough,) and he was lost in her. The twist of her hands in his hair, the pain and the tug of it made him ache right down to his groin; her hips on his thighs, his arm around her waist, pulling her closer… _God, she feels so good._ Sypha was Heaven, right here, warm and pliant in his arms.

She broke away from the kiss and he chased her a moment before coming back to himself, panting, his forehead against hers, their noses brushing together, their lips half a breath apart.

“Sypha?” Trevor murmured, wanting passionately to keep kissing her, but _needing_ to one-up her, just a little bit.

“Trevor,” she said, like she was tasting his name on her tongue.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“…What wasn’t?”

“I wasn’t going to bring up Dracula at all.”

“What were you going to say, then?”

“I was going to say that you and Alucard would be better together than …” Sypha pulled back to look into his eyes again.

“Trevor! He’s _e_ _ighteen_! What do you take me for?”

“Umm…” Trevor hastily looked away. _Shit shit shit…_

“A cradle robber?”

 _Huh?_ Trevor thought.

“Wh – how o – …?” It occurred to Trevor that this was an unwise line of questioning. “Never mind,” he said hastily. _Nice save there, Belmont._

“I’m twenty-six!” Sypha was outraged.

“You just have so much in common! You’re both smart, and you read, and – ”

“Don’t even try it with the literacy, _Master_ Belmont. I know full well you can read! You just didn’t want to help us do boring research, right?” Sypha was glaring daggers at him now. _How did I think she was pissed at me before?_ _That was nothing! It’s like I’m being skewered here! I fucked this up, oh God…_

“Sypha!” _Time for a Hail-Mary. Honesty counts as a last-ditch save, right?_ Trevor swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

“What?” she snapped.

He stared up at her beseechingly. _Maybe it would be better if she got so pissed she climbed right off my lap, got back in the wagon, never kissed me again… Left tomorrow… And I never saw her –_ No. No, he had to fix this. _Besides, she would never!_

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to imply you would … take advantage of anyone, certainly not Alucard. It’s just…” Trevor took a deep, difficult breath. This was too much. He shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. She didn’t stop him. He took that as a good sign.

“It’s easy for me to see you with someone else,” he said. “I’m just not _good_ enough for you. You should be with someone better.”

Sypha touched his hair with her fingertips.

“You really think Alucard is better than you?” she asked.

“For you, maybe,” he said. Sypha’s brow furrowed.

“Why would you think that?” she asked. Trevor felt like he was floundering, adrift in a stormy sea. He cast about for the words he needed, clutching at Sypha as he struggled. His hands were on her back – when had they gotten there? But she wasn’t pushing him away, so he clung to her.

“He’s intelligent. He’s beautiful. He’s not fucking … _ruined,_ like me.” Trevor raised his face from her shoulder, looking up at her, hands tense at the small of her back.

“What good am I to you, really?” he asked. Sypha cupped his face between her hands.

 _“You’re_ beautiful,” she said. “You’re brave. You’re smart! You say you’re not but it’s a lie. I know you, Trevor Belmont. You’re handsome and kind, and you’re gentle! You think no one sees you, but _I_ see you. _I_ see you looking after the hurt cat in Darmanesti, and that lost child on the road! _I_ see how you fight for the little villages with no walls when the night creatures come at sunset. You are a good man, Trevor Belmont, and you have been holding out on fucking me for days, and it’s _not_ fucking _fair!”_

And then Sypha ground against him, moving her hips in one slow, steady drag, _right_ against his cock, (fuck _everything_ ,) and then sat still on his lap with her fingers digging into his shoulders and her eyes alight. Trevor could only imagine the look on his face, but Sypha was staring down at him with a mixture of thoughtfulness and abject lust, her mouth a little open, as she grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and ground down against him again. The pleasure shot up through his groin, straight to his belly, and he clenched his hands on the small of her back and _moaned._ Sypha pressed herself against him, her hands slipping up and over to his shoulder blades as she sidled closer, belly to belly, chest to chest.

“Trevor,” she whispered in his ear, “I want you.” He spread his hands, spanning her waist, brushing his little fingers against the dimples above her ass, detectable even through her long skirts.

“And I swear to God,” Sypha continued, “if you do not shut up and fuck me right now, I will kill you while you sleep and _feed_ you to the goats.”

 _What goats?_ he thought, and then, _I didn’t say anything!_ And then, _Sypha is trying to fuck me, and all I can think of is smartass comments?!_

And then he stopped thinking, and concentrated on lifting her up, and then rising to his knees, and then to his feet, and carrying her toward the wagon. Sypha gasped as he picked them both up off the ground, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“Trevor!”

“Not on the ground,” he growled.

“Yes,” she whispered, her lips moving soft against his neck. So he carried her up into the wagon, onto his bedroll, and laid her down there with her legs splayed around him, and looked at her in the moonlight.

“Sypha,” he said.

“Take off your shirt?” She clutched at the hem of his tunic with desperate hands.

“Only if we get this off, too,” Trevor said, plucking at her underrobe. Sypha smiled.

“Deal,” she said. And they both leaned back to strip hastily.

When they were done, Sypha lay below him in only a small, black shift, her other clothes in a pool around her on the floor of the wagon, and Trevor wore only his breeches, (half-unlaced,) with his shirt, tunic, and bandoliers heaped off to one side and his boots thrown on the ground behind the wagon. The tops of Sypha’s small breasts shone between the shadows on her, catching the light as she breathed hard, looking up at him. Trevor bent to her, kissing her mouth, then her throat, then working his way down toward a nipple as she panted beneath him. The shift was in his way and he grumbled –

“Trevor, wait – ”

He lifted his head to look at her, questioning.

“Let’s get _all_ these clothes off,” Sypha said. Trevor let out a hard, glad breath.

 _“Fuck_ yeah.”

And then he was naked above her, and she was naked beneath him, and their clothes lay discarded all around the wagon, and the clearing was quiet except for the odd flicker of the dying fire and the faint snores of the one horse of theirs that snored faintly, and Trevor looked down at all of Sypha for the very first time.

He wished it wasn’t dark. She was just as perfect as he’d always imagined, but he missed the colors daylight would show him: the sweet shell-pink of her nipples, the deeper pink of her pussy where it swelled and grew wet against him, the color of her pubic hair and the freckles on her belly. _Does the carpet really match the drapes?_ he thought, but wisely did not say. Maybe someday he’d see everything, every color, every nuance of her body, but for now those little one-mouthful breasts of hers were enough, the soft swell of her hips was enough, her thighs filling his hands, the push of her ribs against her belly as she breathed in hard when he looked down between her legs.

“Trevor,” she moaned.

“What do you like?” Trevor met her eyes. He knelt naked between her knees, bent over her, and she was propped up on her elbows looking up at him, openmouthed and panting.

“Oh!” It was more a whimper than a word. Sypha caught her breath. “Make me come and then fuck me,” she whispered.

 _Oh, fuck._ He could _do_ that.

“You want my hands, or my mouth?” Trevor asked.

“Both!” Sypha cried, collapsing flat onto her back, almost begging. “Everything!”

“It’s all yours,” he whispered hoarsely. “All of me.”

And with that he dropped his mouth to her breast, caressing her other nipple briefly with one calloused finger before sliding his dominant hand down between her legs. He tongued at her nipple and got little response after taking her into his mouth, then bit her gently, and she whimpered _“harder”_ and he sank his teeth into her and she cried out in pleasure. Her pussy was dripping already, so he slipped a finger into her wet, swollen heat, and Sypha cried out _“more!”_ while he was still feeling around for that rough, soft, hidden place, and so he sank two fingers into her _hard_ when he found it and she wailed and arched her back.

“Oh, Trevor, hold me down, hold me – ” So he took his other arm and gripped her, shoulder to shoulder, using his weight to pin her down to the bed of the wagon as she arched her hips up under him and he tasted her breasts with his teeth, her thighs trembling til she could no longer lift him up and she lay flat beneath him, crying out with every thrust of his fingers into her.

“You ready to come?” Trevor panted into her ear. Sypha’s voice was ragged, half-ruined as she lay under him, but still she rose up to whisper against his neck.

 _“Please,”_ she said.

So he sank his fingers into her again, and kissed his way down between her breasts, across her belly, parting those coarse curls between her legs and putting her clit into his mouth.

* * *

**Sypha**

It was better than she’d ever hoped. Maybe not as good as she could have imagined, but for their first time, with his fingers hot inside her pussy and his mouth gentle around her clit, it was all she could have wanted. The pleasure from his hand inside her stabbed through her in hard, thick darts, pressing from her pelvis all the way up past her sternum, again and again like lightning through her torso, but his mouth on her was soft, delicate, the heat pooling around her like water, like a warm blanket, lifting her higher, higher into his hands.

Sypha’s pleasure unfolded like a flower as he touched her, tingling from her fingertips to her toes. It was easy, when it didn’t feel so good, to pretend to enjoy it – she’d done it once or twice, before she realized how shit it was to pretend to like it while some fool licked at her senselessly – but _this,_ when her breath left her conscious control and her spine arched and relaxed as he stroked against her … His fingers inside her were like light in a dark place, illuminating ecstasies she couldn’t touch herself, and his tongue coaxed those embers to a frenzy as she lay there with her legs spread, totally open to him… She was mixing metaphors in her arousal and she _didn’t_ care. Only this mattered, only Trevor’s touch, oh God, oh _fuck_ she was so close –

It started like a cool breath of air, or water at the top of her hips.

“Oh, _oh, don’t_ stop,” she whimpered, and it came on, laying her down heavy as it progressed, the flickering of his fingers inside her like she was a piano and he pressed each key in sequence, raising her to a delicate crescendo, “don’t stop, Trevor,” she rose helpless in his hands like dandelion down, every breath drawing her higher, “ah, _ah!”_ And he sucked at her, and there were no words for it.

Trevor rode her slowly through her orgasm, his fingers moving as steady as they’d been since the moment she tightened hard around him, licking and sucking at her as he had been til she twitched under his mouth and said “stop!” And then he lifted his face from her pussy, and looked up at her with hot blue eyes, wet from nose to chin with her arousal, and said,

“Was that okay?”

And Sypha dropped her head back against the tangle of cloak and bedroll on the bed of the wagon below her, and shut her eyes, and caught her breath.

“Fuck, Trevor,” she breathed. “Oh, God, that was _i_ _ncredible_ _."_

She felt him swallow hard against her thigh.

“Do you still want – ”

“You to fuck me?” A smile tugged at Sypha’s mouth and she did not resist. _“Fuck_ yes,” she said. “Right now. As hard as you can.”

Trevor was up on his knees, her thighs in his hands, faster than she would have believed possible. He knelt above her, cradling her hips against him, looking down as she lay with her hands still tangled in the edges of the bedroll above her head, gazing up at him with warm, post-orgasmic eyes. Her whole body floated on his hands and the pleasure he had just pounded into her with his fingers. He looked down at her, and his face was one last question.

“Put my legs up on your shoulders and fuck me, Trevor,” Sypha said.

So he did.

Sypha bit down hard on her wrist to keep from screaming as Trevor slammed into her. As good as his fingers were, at this angle, his dick was better. He was thick, and hot, and she could feel him twitching as she flexed around him, and he hammered into that perfect spot inside her again and again as hard as he could, and she wrapped her pussy around him as tight as she could. Their eyes locked as Trevor clamped one hand around her hip and leaned the other beside her head and _rammed_ into her, with her feet up on his shoulders so that she was bent almost double, Sypha’s fist in her own mouth so she didn’t shriek out her pleasure to every night creature in the region. She wanted to beg him, but she couldn’t around her own hands, she tried –

After a few moments of mumbling, Trevor saw, and slowed himself, taking her wrist out of her mouth with a gentle hand.

“What is it?” he panted.

“Oh, don’t stop – ” and he moved inside her a little harder, one hand cupped behind her head and neck, supporting her even as he fucked her, “ – Trevor, I – come inside me!”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t stop moving. “Inside you, Sypha? Are you sure?”

“Speakers have – precautions – oh, _fuck,_ just _trust_ me, _please –_ ah, _ah,”_ he was at that place again, and she was helpless with her legs up, fingers tangling in her own robes, eyes rolling up in her head, _oh God_ –

“Okay,” Trevor said, and he picked up his pace again.

“Yes,” Sypha cried, “ _yes! Trevor!”_

“You can't keep fucking quiet, can you?” Trevor's voice was warm with amusement and rough with lust. Sypha shook her head helplessly.

And Trevor clamped a hand down over her mouth, and hitched her ankles a little higher against his neck, and wrapped his other hand around her hip, and then Sypha saw stars. She screamed against his palm and Trevor held her fast, ramming into her as she clenched her pussy around him, her toes curling as he hammered against that spot inside her that needed to be touched so badly, even after coming she was still so swollen, the wetness still dripping out of her, still making a mess in their bedding, and the wet, slick sound of him inside her, his hips slapping against her ass as he fucked her, harder and harder, and she squealed and whimpered under him –

And Trevor came, with a harsh, choked-off sort of groan, taking his hand off her mouth so he could grab both her hips and hold her to him as tight as he could. Sypha felt his dick flex and twitch as he spent himself inside her, and she panted, caught up in the pleasure of it. To have someone come bare with their dick inside her always felt so _fucking_ good… Sypha moaned a little in the back of her throat, rolling her hips up against Trevor’s as he lay on top of her, his dick still in her.

He released her legs and leaned down slowly, his heartbeat thrumming against her chest. He made no move to withdraw from inside her. Sypha wrapped her languid legs around his waist to hold him there.

“Mmmhh,” Trevor said, and pressed his mouth into the curve of her neck. ‘Mmmhh’ wasn’t saying much, but to be fair, Sypha wasn’t far past the ‘Aahh’ stage herself.

Trevor propped himself up on his elbows, keeping his face tucked against her neck and shoulder. He sighed, catching his breath. His heartbeat didn’t slow. She stroked his back with light fingers, waiting, patient and content.

“Sypha,” Trevor said finally.

“Hmm?”

He kept his face hidden against her.

“Was that … just this once? Or do you…?”

“Oh, _Master_ Belmont.” Sypha nuzzled against his ear enthusiastically. Trevor’s hands tightened on her. “I expect such a performance _every_ night.” And his hands went tighter, but his shoulders went slack, and all the breath went out of him at once, and he mumbled _“oh Christ”_ into her shoulder in the tones of a broken man, and Sypha burst out laughing.


End file.
